


nothing ventured, nothing gained

by MigrantMayhem



Series: healing takes time, like seeds growing to flowers [1]
Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Codependency, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Loss of Parent(s), Pre-Canon, Smoking, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:27:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MigrantMayhem/pseuds/MigrantMayhem
Summary: Willow Weyland has grown up in Starlight City-- a war-torn city on the far southern tip of the Ferngill Republic. Loss was a part of regular life. But sometimes it got to be too much. This was the final nail in the coffin. She needed a change.---Okay so I UNDERSTAND that Stardew Valley is a cheery, light-hearted farming sim and there was NO REASON to traumatize my farmer BUT.To cope with pandemic anxiety and the crushing grip of capitalism i traumatized my farmer and turned her move to the Valley into a story of recovery and growth from horrible conditions. This is the beginning of it.
Series: healing takes time, like seeds growing to flowers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154150
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. winter 27, year 0

**Author's Note:**

> theres no reason for a game this cheery to have such angst in it but here i am, making angst. enjoy

Willow sat, huddled in the corner of her mother’s apartment. The air was stale, the lights were off. They had found her in that ugly green armchair, dead.

Dead. She was dead.

They had found an empty pill bottle in the bathroom sink. It’s assumed she overdosed. It’s assumed it was a suicide. There was no note, no final word. No nothing. She was just gone-- gone before Willow could come to see her.

Maybe that was the point.

A sob rose in her throat, curled up in the corner between the bookshelf and the fake ficus, hiding like she used to as a kid, a little girl, playing hide and seek with her mother--

Fuck. That was so long ago now. She was so different, then.

Willow didn’t need a note to tell her  _ why  _ she did it. She knew. It was her fault.

Her mother had always wanted her to grow up respectable, maybe become a photographer or a lawyer or a nurse. “The best thing to do with talent is use it to make money,” She would say,  _ hell _ , Willow built her whole life around that sentiment, in backwards, fucked-up ways. That’s why she served time at 16, dealing weed to the traumatized at a cut rate. She hardly turned a fucking profit off of that gig, she made just enough to offer ten to twenty extra gold to her mom for bills a month. Why the hell did she even bother? Because she knew it would piss her mom off? Because she wanted to spite her?  _ No, no, no _ .

Willow  _ knew  _ the night she dyed her sandy blonde hair bright pink her mother damn near threw a tantrum. She had loved Willow’s sandy blonde hair-- “Reminds me of grandma and grandpa’s farm, in Stardew Valley.” Willow had never been. 

She dyed her hair at least three more times, before she decided she liked teal. Her hair has been teal since she was fourteen-- a bright aqua color that sometimes faded to green, but it was pretty. Her mother hated it.

Then came the piercings. The tattoos. Each new stud or ink caused another fight, her mother started throwing things, losing it more and more. It was grief, she knew it was grief. Now, especially, because  _ she  _ felt like screaming and throwing things. Willow was killing her daughter slowly, taking that image of the small, sandy-blonde haired girl in twin braids curled up between the bookshelf and the ficus giggling because her mother was just a little too tall to see her through the plastic leaves and perverting it into some… she didn’t know. Some hooligan, she guessed.

What was her mother thinking, when she did it? Was it because Dad was gone too-- she had lost her husband, her “daughter”, her father and mother-- she had to leave, she had to  _ leave  _ Willow?

Willow cried, chest heaving, sobs muffled by the tattered denim of her jeans. She had lost  _ so much _ \-- in the past year and a half alone she had lost Katie, Aaron and Liz, Niall, now her own mother? 

“I’m sorry,” She whined, a whisper into the silence, “I’m so sorry, mom, please…”

Fuck, she hurt. Her chest ached and she whimpered, curling tighter into herself. She sounded pathetic. You couldn’t cry death away. You couldn’t beg, you couldn’t fix it.

“I’m still here, mom. I’m still here.”

The room was empty, no one could fucking hear her, why was she even bothering--

“ _ Mom _ , please, it’s not your fault--” She gasped, squeezing herself against her chest, “--it’s not your fault.”

She sat there, crying for only Yoba knew how long. Her chest ached, and she felt fucking nauseous. She stood up anyway. There was a box on the dining table that was marked “Willow,” in her mother’s handwriting.

She had been coming up here to pick up her stuff, anyway. She had talked to her mother on the phone not even four days ago. “You’ve still got some shit up here, Willow,” She had said, with all the softness and warmth of frozen fucking sandpaper, “Come get it before I finally just pitch it.”

How long after that did she do it?

She dug through the box a little bit-- an old teddy bear she’d been deathly afraid of losing, Beary Boy, she’d had him since she was, what, three? Four? It was a birthday gift from her father, she’d heard. She pulled him out of the box and held him gingerly, stuffing still incredibly firm, eyes still clear. She squeezed the bear to her chest, fingers massaging his matted fur as a few more tears rolled down her face.

She tucked the bear under her arm and continued to dig through it. Important school papers, some kindergarten artwork, the highschool diploma everyone was certain she would never receive, and at the very bottom, an old envelope, still sealed with wax. She turned it over, and read the address.

“Willow Weyland

1044 Eastern Ave, Apt. 5

Starlight City, Ferngill Republic”

There was no return address. The envelope smelled like saltwater and old dirt, a smell she didn’t get very much in such a dense urban jungle as Starlight City.

She wiped her eyes one more time, before she flipped it around, opening the wax seal and pulling out two pages of parchment.

“Dear Willow,

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me, long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: Saltspray Farm. It’s located in Stardew Valley on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life.

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honor the family name, my girl.

Good luck.

Love, Grandpa.

P.S. If Lewis is still alive, say ‘hi’ to the old guy for me, will ya?”

She slid the yellowed parchment aside to see a folded deed, listing all the information to Saltspray Farm, under her name. She’d had this for… for how long? Why didn’t her mom tell her?

She glanced back at the ugly green armchair, as if her mother was still sitting there, ready to give her answers.

She’d never know, would she?

Willow put the letter and the deed back in it’s envelope, before stashing that and Beary Boy back into the box. She put it on her hip and carried it out. She locked the door behind her, going downstairs and handing the keys to the landlord-- an older gentleman who looked sick with anxiety.

“I-I’m sorry for your loss.”

“I know. I am too.” She grumbled, taking her box of stuff and carrying it out to the car.

She glanced up at the window that used to be hers, half expecting to see her mother peeking through the blinds, but she should know better.

She got into the car and slammed the drivers side door, and proceeded to cry.


	2. winter 28, year 0

Willow showed up at Leeann’s tattoo parlor a little before noon the next day. She stepped into the building out of the rain, and she didn’t miss how the artist at the desk flinched a little at the sight of her.

“Is Leeann here?” She asked in a low voice.

The artist blinked. “Who's asking?”

Willow chewed at the stud on the inside of her cheek. “Willow. Old friend.”

The artist nodded slowly, “Let me check for you.”

Willow knew the drill-- she’d been here enough times to know when someone comes in looking as pissed off as she did, you always ask the person being asked for if they’re here or not. She waited patiently, well, impatiently, foot bouncing on the wet hardwood.

Soon the black-haired artist emerged from the back, dark eyes glittering under her heavy liner and mascara.

“Willow-- what’s up?” Her demeanor immediately shifted from her perky self to concerned.

“I need a few tattoos. Are you open today? Right now?”

“Uh-- yeah, are they simple?”

“Simple enough. Won’t take a second session.”

Leeann nodded, glancing at the artist.

“Walk me through what we’re doing today.”

“I need two. One is going under my arm--” She traced the spot on the inside of her right arm, “It’ll look like this,” She slid her simple, wrinkled piece of lined paper across the counter. She didn’t want to look at it, and felt her eyes misting up at the idea. She cleared her throat, “And I need another one on my shoulder blade. A.M.W. WIN.25.”

Leeann looked up, eyes wide, and Willow dropped her head down, wiping furiously at her eyes. It was too much to afford a burial in this city. Especially with the war, finding a half-decent memorial was impossible. Her mother’s body was going to science, and then she’d be cremated and the ashes would likely be scattered to the wind. Willow had devoted her right shoulder to a graveyard, a list of friends' initials going down from the point of her shoulder blade down. There were five there, now. Soon to be six. Leeann knew what this meant. After all, her little sister was one of the names there.

“Oh, Willow,” She cooed softly, “I… I’m so sorry.”

“I’m sick of apologies,” She spat, sniffling, “I just want to get this done and get out of here.”

Leeann looked down, nodding. “Let me get set up. Give us just a minute.”

Leeann took the other artist to the back for a second. Willow turned her back to the counter and drew a shaky breath, hissing on her exhale. She wiped her eyes one more time, before she turned again.

“Here’s the paperwork, you know the drill.” Leeann returned with a clipboard, before she moved to the chair and started prepping it.

Willow struck a line through all the boxes saying she was sober and sane and was doing this in her right mind, even though it wasn’t true. She signed it and passed it back across the counter, before going to the tattoo chair and flopping into it. “Arm first.” She knew it would hurt the most.

The tattoo gun buzzed and Willow winced, but the pain felt good. It stung and it burned and it made her want to scream, but it was cathartic. She knew if she wasn’t here, she’d be curled up in a bathroom, blood running down her thighs, between all the pretty flowers she planted in ink there. She’d been clean for six months now, she didn’t want to start over. She didn’t want to replant those flowers. She ground her teeth and grunted and Leeann would spare her a pitying glance, which made Willow want to get up and walk away then and there. She didn’t. Too soon, the tattoo was done. Time for the next one. Leeann rubbed the fresh tattoo with her hand a little, before Willow flipped over.

When Willow was finished, she found her friends sitting outside under the awning, smoking a cigarette to pass the time. She said friends loosely-- they were kids she used to deal to in high school, who stuck around after her time in juvie. She didn’t trust them like real friends. All her real friends were scattered to the wind, now. Like her mother soon would be.

They stood up abruptly when Willow came out, and she tried to spare them her glare.

“Hey, Willow,” Mackenzie started, a short girl with snakebites and hair the color of an aurora-- they’d fucked around a couple times, while they were too young and too drunk to know any better.

“You… you okay?” Kenn added next-- they were tall with shaggy hair, gaunt figure draped in black on black on black. They were the one who got her smoking.

Willow was silent.

“You know you can talk to us,” Vic added callously, the portly girl puffing on her cigarette before flicking the butt off into the rain.

“What the fuck is there to talk about?” Willow spat shortly.

“Well, you’re getting tattooed on an impulse all of a sudden,” Vic continued, not meeting her eye, simply arching a brow at the ground.

“We… We heard about your mom,” Mackenzie faked a smile.

Willow grimaced, grinding her teeth. “Fuckin’... Leeann told you, didn’t she? Of fucking course.”

Kenn rolled their head a little, licking their lips. “Sorry about that, Willow. Sucks.”

Willow tried to ignore their bluntness. They didn’t get it. They hated their parents, hated their life, relished in moping and smoking and drinking and dying young. Willow had enough of that. She’d hurt enough from that.

“I’d rather not talk about it,” She muttered, walking around to her car. Kenn looked at her. “Are… are you sure?”

Willow clicked her tongue, sighing. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.”

Kenn glanced to Vic, and they both nodded. “Oh. Okay. Cool. See you at your place Friday, then, right?”

Her jaw tightened and she spoke through her teeth. “Yeah. Friday.”

Kenn and Vic left. Mackenzie stayed.

“Can… can I get a ride?”

Willow sighed. “Yeah. Yeah. Sure.”

Mackenzie got in the passenger's seat, and Willow started the engine.

“Didn’t you hitch a ride with Kenn?” Willow asked.

“Mhm. But you looked like you needed to clear your head.”

Willow stayed quiet for a minute before breaking the silence.

"I'm leaving the city."

"What?" Mackenzie blinked.

"I'm leaving. I found an old deed in my mom's stuff. It's already in my name and everything. I must've inherited it from my grandpa."

"Wait--  _ why _ ?" She spluttered.

"Why not?" Willow croaked from behind the wheel, "I've got nothing left to lose here."

"What about me?" Mackenzie squeaked, "What about  _ us _ ? Do we not matter to you? Do you not  _ care _ ?"

Willow stopped at a red light, turning to look at Mackenzie. The girl's face was already starting to get puffy and tears welled in her eyes.

Willow's heart didn't even ache. She was past the point of caring.

"No. No I don't."

Mackenzie stuttered, before she leaned back in her seat.

"I can't believe you."

"What's so hard to believe about that?"

"I thought we  _ had _ something, Willow. I thought  _ I  _ meant something to you."

"I guess not."

"No. I don't believe you."

"What does that mean?"

"Your mom died. So what? That doesn't give you the right to be a  _ bitch  _ to your only friends!"

Willow ground her teeth, swerving over to the side of the road and throwing on the brakes. Cars honked around them before sailing past. Mackenzie squeaked as her chest was caught by the seatbelt.

"Get the  _ fuck _ out of my car," Willow's voice shook.

"No! I'm not going to let you go!"

"You don't get to  _ decide _ that, Kenz," Willow screamed, a sob cutting through her rant and she wiped her face frantically.

Mackenzie drew a shaky breath and pulled out a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket.

"You can't smoke in here."

"Bullshit. It's raining outside," Mackenzie took another cigarette out of her pack and handed it to Willow, "You need a smoke, too. You're wound like a fucking spring."

Willow looked at the cigarette with disdain. Mackenzie knew she was trying to quit. Yoba,  _ fuck  _ Mackenzie. "You're a codependent bitch, Mackenzie," she sniffled, taking the cigarette and lighting it. 

"Fuck you."

"Fuck  _ you _ ."

Willow took a long drag off the cigarette and it  _ burned _ . She coughed like it was the first time, but the nicotine hit her system and she felt, for the moment, okay. She didn't feel like her insides were broken glass for the first time since she got the call.

She threw the car out of park and got back onto the road. The faster she got to Mackenzie's place the faster she'd be out of her hair, and out of her life.

Mackenzie got dropped off at the curb of her complex, and she invited Willow inside. Willow said nothing, pulling the door shut behind her and driving off.

When she got home, she immediately started throwing stuff in her bookbag. It was worn, ragged from years of use, but it stayed sturdy. It had held everything from her first angling trophy in the sixth grade to the pot she'd sell in sophomore year. She grabbed that and an old suitcase and started packing all her belongings-- everything that was important to her. She threw her clothes in the suitcase and everything else in her bag, cramming it full until it overflowed.

With that finished, she made some phone calls.

The first was to the Mayor's office in Pelican Town.

The dial tone echoed in her ear, and she wiped her face from any stray tears she shed while packing. Her fingers shook.

"Hello? This is Mayor Lewis, um, of Pelican Town speaking. How may I be of service?"

The voice on the other end sounded uncertain, but not from a lack of confidence, it was a lack of practice.

"Hi, Mayor, I, um--" she breathed, "Is the Saltspray Farm still available?"

There was a sigh, "For the last time, Saltspray Farm is  _ not _ available land, its deed has been inherited--"

"To me. I… I'm Willow Weyland. I found the deed going through my mom's stuff today. I'd like to finally claim the land."

There was a long, unending silence between them on the phone. The only reason she knew she was still on the line was the white noise in the background.

"You… you're kidding," The voice spoke, mystified, "Ah! Excuse me, where are my manners! Forgive me, I just… I didn't actually think the day would come, it's--"

"It's been nearly 18 years, now. I know."

"Yes, yeah," Relief flooded the voice on the other end of the line, "I'm so glad to finally hear from you. When… when do you think you'd like to pay the old farm a visit?"

She paused. "How long does it take to get from Starlight City to Stardew Valley?"

"Oh, uh…"

Willow pulled the phone away from her ear and put it on speakerphone. She quickly searched for directions.

"Alright, you think you'll be ready for me in about four hours?"

"F-Four hours?!" Lewis stuttered on the other end of the phone, "But the farm is--"

"You don't need to tidy it up or anything. I know it's been vacant for almost two decades-- I'll kill any cockroaches or fend off any homeless people myself. I just need to get out of here."

There was a stunned silence, before Lewis croaked, "Of course. O-Of course! We can't wait to meet you up here. See-- see you soon!"

"See you soon." Willow hung up the phone, breathing a deep sigh of relief. She quickly punched in her boss's number.

"Welcome to Joja, this is James, how can I be of service today?"

"Hey James, it's Willow. I won't be able to come in tomorrow. Or ever."

"Wait-- wait what? What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving. I'm not coming back. Kiss my ass-- and good luck finding my replacement, you self absorbed prick!"

Willow hung up the phone before he could get a word in, and she giggled manically. She called her landlord next.

"Yeah, I'm going to need to break my lease. Yeah, no, keep my security deposit-- I don't care. You can get the rest of it out of my furniture. Anything I leave-- yours. I'm never coming back. Yeah, I'll drop by and sign the paper and drop off my keys. Uhhuh. Bye."

She scrolled through her contact list. She passed nearly all the names, but hesitated on one.

The phone rang, before Leeann picked up.

"Hey, you doing okay? Your friends didn't stick around long."

"I didn't need them. I appreciate the effort, but they're not really ‘comfort’ people.”

“Then… what’s up?”

“I’m calling to say goodbye. And, before you say anything, I’m just moving. I found a deed to an old farmhouse in my mom’s place. I inherited it from my grandpa after he died. I’m getting out of the city.”

“...Oh. Are… are you sure? But what about your job?”

“I quit. Fuck Joja.”

“Willow, I know you’re hurting, but…”

“Leeann, I love you, but you know I got nothing keeping me here. You’re the only one in my whole phone that I deemed worth telling.”

“You’re not gonna tell Kenz and--”

“I tried telling Kenz, and she threw her whole ‘you can’t leave me I won’t let you!’ tantrum, again. So no, I’m not gonna tell any of ‘em. They’ll find out when they show up at my door Friday and realize I’m not there.”

“You’re leaving that soon?”

“I’m leaving tonight.”

There was silence.

“Thank you so much, for everything, Leeann. I’ll call you when I can.”

“You don’t have to do that, Wil. You’re trying to run away from this, don’t let me be the thing tying you here.”

“Leeann…”

“I mean it. I’m gonna miss you, kid.”

“I know. I’ll miss you. And I’ll still make the drive for all my tattooing and piercing needs.”

“Hey, I’ll hold you to that.”

Willow grinned on her end of the phone. “Have a good life, Leeann.”

“You too, Willow.”

She hung up the phone.

Then, quick as she could, she grabbed her bookbag and her suitcase and tore down the flight of stairs to the landlord’s office. She signed her paperwork and waved off any attempts to keep her there, dropped her keys on the desk, and threw everything in her car and headed for the highway.

Rain pelted the windshield as Willow drove directly against the storm. Her radio was blasting and she didn’t know how much of the ride she had cried. She screamed the lyrics to Catf!sh’s “Kill Kiss” and finished the last drops of an energy drink she picked up at a gas station about 150 miles back. Beary Boy was strapped in the passenger's seat because  _ fuck it _ ,  _ why not _ . Yesterday’s makeup was still somehow smearing with all the crying and screaming she’d done in the past twenty-four hours. She was as mentally stable as a stack of fine china on a unicycle, and if this was rock bottom, what the hell was she going to lose?

She hoped Mayor Lewis was ready to deal with her mess, because she wasn’t going to clean up for anyone. What they saw is what they got, first impressions be damned.

It wasn’t until after the sun had set and the storm had long since passed that the sign for Stardew Valley came into view. She turned off the interstate and passed through the soft, starry prairie. Soon she went down a county road until she made a slow right turn down a dusty gravel road.

There was a redheaded woman standing by the side of the road, a little older, probably about her mother’s age-- her  _ late  _ mother’s age, she dreaded to remind herself. She waved, before flagging Willow down. She stopped and rolled down her window.

“Are you Ms. Weyland?” She called over the noise of the radio and the engine. Willow quickly turned off the music.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m Robin! I was told to show you to Saltspray. It’s not far, but it’s hard to find in the dark.”

Willow nodded, before popping her passenger’s door open. “Here, get in.”

Robin nodded and moved to sit down, before she stopped. Willow glanced at the passenger’s seat and saw Beary Boy still strapped in.

“Ah, shit, uh--” She smiled sheepishly and unfastened the seatbelt, gingerly tossing the stuffed bear atop her backpack in the back seat. It landed on its side, and Willow spared a glance to make sure it landed softly, as though it were a child instead of a toy. She supposed, in a way, it was-- it carried all her childhood inside it. She glanced back to Robin as she replaced Beary Boy.

“You doing okay?” She asked softly, warmly, like any good mother would.

Willow offered a bleak smile, “Do you know anyone who would relocate their entire life in the course of four hours if they were okay?”

Robin tried to laugh, but Willow knew her dark humor was coming on a little too strong.

“I think my son would. He would love to get out of here and move to the city.”

Willow couldn’t help but scoff, “Well, I know a place in Starlight City that just got an opening. Fully furnished, too.”

She didn’t miss the look Robin shot her, “Please, he doesn’t need encouragement.”

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t wish that place on my worst enemy.”

“Here, turn right up here,” Robin directed. Willow turned as the road ended. “I’m the local carpenter here, by the way. I hate to say it, but you’ll probably see a lot of me with the state the farmhouse is in.”

“It’s that bad?” Willow couldn’t help but laugh, “Is it at least livable?”

Robin glanced at her, “Well, no leaks and no holes, and as far as I could tell no wild animals or homeless people. I think you’ll be okay. It’s even got a bed that’s in pretty good shape for it’s age.”

“Oh thank the Seed,” Willow breathed.

“You… you didn’t bring any furniture?”

“Nope.”

“You’re really just-- you’ve only got a suitcase and a backpack?”

“Yep.”

Robin laughed. “Yoba, kids like you scare me. You didn’t have family that could’ve helped?”

Willow looked off.  _ Robin means well _ , she had to remind herself,  _ she doesn’t know. _

“I… sorry. I didn’t mean to--”

“It’s fine,” She muttered quietly.

The car ride was awkwardly quiet and thankfully short.

“Oh,  _ shit look out _ \--” Robin cursed, grabbing the armrest.

Willow threw on the breaks just before she collided with a boulder. The front bumper of her twenty-year-old sedan rubbed against the jagged surface, but no other damage was done.

“Holy shit,” Willow breathed.

“We’re, uh, we’re here.”

Willow blinked, scanning what appeared to be a dense wilderness. Then, she saw a light off to the far side. There was a tiny little cottage.

Willow got out of the car and grabbed her things, how few they were, and locked the car. Robin and Willow made their way through the underbrush up to the steps of the old cabin.

As Willow emerged from the underbrush, she noticed that most of the ground that wasn’t loose soil was sand. The farmhouse sat so it was just out of high tide’s reach, and the ocean came inland to meet the little farm. She had a tiny bay all to herself. She stared out into the darkness as trees sprouted from the sand, roots submerged in the salty water. They had long, pretty vines that dipped down and fluttered in the breeze.

And the stars-- Willow looked up and saw more stars than she could ever remember. The night sky was a deep, rich purple and the constellations shone brighter than even pictures. She held her breath, seeing swirls of galaxies that she couldn’t even dream of. She thought it was just an exaggeration. She didn’t know the night sky was so…  _ breathtaking _ .

“Willow? You coming?” Robin asked.

She lowered her eyes from the heavens and looked back at Robin. She grinned warmly. “You don’t get views like this in the city, huh?”

Willow swallowed thickly, simply nodding. She was so overwhelmed, but for once it wasn’t a bad thing. Her heart was full.

“You must be Ms. Willow Weyland!” A cheery old voice called from the steps, and Willow recognized it.

“Mr. Mayor--” Willow looked up, stepping up to greet the older gentleman. He wasn’t bad looking in his old age, laughter lines and crows feet speaking of a jolly lifetime, hair thinning but not quite bald, and a twinkle in his eye that spoke to his wit.

“Please, Lewis is fine. We’re kind of like a family here in Stardew Valley. It’s a shame I never got the chance to meet you before.”

Willow nodded, “I think if you had, I never would have left. The valley is so pretty.”

Lewis laughed, and it was a good, grandfather-like laugh. She felt her throat try to close up but she kept a calm veneer.

“You know… you weren’t, um, what I was expecting.” Lewis spoke tactfully.

Willow only grinned, “Oh, if I had a gold for every time someone said that to me.”

Lewis seemed flustered but polite, as many a nervous older gentleman had been about her appearance. He was smart enough to drop the subject instead of following it up with something along the lines of “It’s not very ladylike, is it?”

He turned around and gestured up to the old farmhouse. “Well, here she is. Sorry I couldn’t get her in better shape for you, but with such short notice…”

“It’s perfect,” Willow spoke softly.

“Well, surely it’s not…  _ that  _ perfect?” Robin chimed in, “I mean, I can see just a few things that could need some polishing from here and--”

“Oh, don’t mind her, Willow. She’s just trying to sell you one of her house upgrades.”

Robin bristled, but didn’t say anything.

Willow ignored both of them, instead pushing open the door to the rickety old house, and she noticed that it smelled like Grandpa’s letter. Sea spray and old dirt, the musty smell of lingering herbs. It was a tiny, one-room cabin that made her old apartment feel spacious. There was a white wooden table with two chairs against the wall, and a full-sized bed pressed into the far corner. The bedframe was elegantly carved out of a warm brown wood and was decorated with sea shells dangling from the footboard. Across the house from the bed was what could hardly be called a kitchenette, but it fulfilled all her cooking needs-- a small stove, a refrigerator, and a sink. She could easily fit a microwave on top of the fridge, and the stovetop could  _ probably  _ function as counter space if she absolutely needed it.There was a nearly empty bookshelf between two windows against the far wall, and a large, old tube TV sitting awkwardly in the middle of the floor.

“We… figured you could use the entertainment. It was the best we could find in the time we had.”

This place would have sucked were it not so cozy. There were two extra doors in the whole house, which Robin explained was a closet and a bathroom. Otherwise, the place took open-concept to the next level.

“I…” Willow stuttered, “I literally cannot thank you enough. You have been more than accommodating with the, well, impromptu plans. I really, really appreciate this.”

Lewis and Robin smiled warmly, “Of course,” Lewis said, “We’re glad to see this old farm being put back to use-- or, at least claimed.”

“Are you?” Robin asked, “You will be farming, won’t you?”

Willow turned around to look at them. “I… I don’t know. I hadn’t really given it much thought.”

“You-- You moved all the way out here, on a whim, and put no thought into what you were going to do with the property?” Lewis asked, dumbstruck.

“Well, at least she isn’t immediately turning around and selling it…” Robin muttered.

Willow shrunk away from the two. “I’ve been a little preoccupied, today.”

Lewis picked his jaw up off the floor, nodding slowly. “Well, I do hope you’ll consider at the very least starting a garden. The soil here used to produce the best fruits and vegetables. You wouldn’t be disappointed in the flowers, either.”

Willow had always had a green thumb, but that was in a climate-controlled apartment with plants that had not even nine inches to grow. She didn’t know if the openness would make it better or worse. And, as of now, she had to compete with the forest invading her property.

“Well, we’ll let you get some sleep,” Lewis dismissed himself and Robin, dipping his head, “You’ve probably had a very long day, and a very long drive. I’ll drop off some seeds and some tools in the morning, in case you’d like to… clean up this place a little bit.”

Willow looked up. She smiled softly. “Thank you so much, Lewis.”

The old man nodded, and turned to leave.

“Oh, Lewis? My grandpa wanted to say hi. I know it’s… a few years late.”

Lewis looked up, and his eyes shined. “Of course he did. Thank you, Willow.”

He and Robin departed, walking down the dark road Willow took to get here. She peeked out and watched as Lewis gestured towards her awkwardly parked car and she couldn’t help but laugh.

She spent her first night in Stardew Valley sitting in the sand, letting the brackish water tickle at her toes as the last days of winter ebbed away into spring. Beary Boy sat in her lap, pulled tightly to her chest.

“We made it,” She whispered softly into the bears worn ear, “We made it out of the city alive.”

Willow, for the last time that day, cried softly, but this time to the sound of waves instead of cars.


End file.
